


inside your head

by PuzzledHats



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dream Sex, Dream Sharing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzledHats/pseuds/PuzzledHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver starts dreaming of Felicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	inside your head

**Author's Note:**

> already posted on tumblr.

**_"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?_ " - J.K. Rowling **

 

* * *

 

 

The first dream happens the night after their ill-fated date, those two horrible minutes he thought he’d lost her and the fight that followed. So he isn’t really surprised when he has the most vivid dream of her he’s ever experienced. 

He doesn’t really look around, but he notices the brightly-patterned bedspread and thinks it’s his brain’s way of telling him this is Felicity’s room.  

He doesn’t care where they are so long as they don’t stop. 

He’s pounding into her at a brutal pace he’d never allow himself in real life, holding on so tightly there would be bruises in the real world.

But it isn’t the real world. In the real world they can’t do this; can’t be this. So he indulges himself here in this dream. They don’t talk but he knows she’s just as desperate for this as he is, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He swears he can actually taste her skin as he licks it while she comes undone around him, her body tightening with the climax, as she whispers his name in his ear. 

Fuck, that alone is enough to undo him, but right as he is about to let go, he wakes up. He doesn’t hesitate to grab his erection and finish the job, his mind still full of Felicity.

Later, when he sees her at the foundry, he feels a little guilty. Only bastards have dreams like that, and if it’s one thing Oliver Queen knows, it’s that he’s 100% a bastard.

The next dream is a couple of weeks later. There isn’t any excuse for it besides Felicity coming back from Central City without a new boyfriend, according to Diggle. 

This time is a little more relaxed. She’s dressed in black lace and beckoning him forward with the crook of her finger and playful smile. He gladly follows orders, his hands not wasting any time in getting her naked. As they tumble to the bed, he takes a moment to look around her room.

Having never been in her room, he doesn’t actually have a clue what it looks like. But he thinks his brain has done a pretty good job, because it has Felicity’s touch everywhere. 

“What?” Felicity asks, her hands cradling his face until he looks back down at her.

“Nothing,” he says, smiling into a kiss. “I just realized I’ve never seen your bedroom before.”

“It’s not much,” Felicity shrugs then puts a little pressure on his left side. He flips them until she’s on top. She stretches luxuriously over him and her room is forgotten. 

The dreams start to happen more frequently. He’s having them a couple of times a week now. It takes all his years of self-control to keep a straight face around Felicity sometimes, because he’s got a cache of images stored in his brain that are constantly threatening to take up all his attention.

“We should stop this,” he says half-heartedly one night. They are in his new apartment this time. 

“Why?” she asks, getting to her knees in front of him, her hand loosely gripping his hip. “What can dreams hurt?”

“Right,” he says, her logic making complete sense. “It’s just a dream.”

When she starts dating Ray, the dreams stop completely. He’s actually proud of himself for that. Thinks he has finally moved on, giving himself a mental pat on the back for his success. 

Except the night he discovers they’ve broken up, he has another one. 

This time Felicity is the more frenzied one. 

“I hate that this is the only way I can have you,” she says, sitting in his lap, straddling him. He’s not inside her yet, but she has his cock between them, occasionally rolling her hips. 

It’s an odd thing for his mind to have Felicity say, because in the real world all she would have to say is where and he’d be there. 

He shrugs it off, his hand brushing hair away from her face before bringing her in for an intense kiss that he feeds all his love and emotion into, before pulling back, resting his forehead on hers.

“Do you understand?” He repeats his words, his voice just as low and intense as the first time he said it. “Do you?”

“No, Oliver,” she says, raising on her knees a little as she slides down onto him. “No, I don’t understand.”

And that’s how they fuck, sitting up, Felicity rotating her hips while they keep their foreheads touching, staring at each other with the intensity of everything they can’t have. He doesn’t know why she is crying, but he rubs away her tears with his thumb, hating his brain for making him go through with this.

When he wakes from the dream there is a weight in his stomach. He grabs them both coffee and heads over to her house with no real purpose other than wanting to be a good friend. Because good friends help other friends get over their breakups. Or at least, that’s what Thea had once said and he’s pretty sure Thea is never wrong.

She opens the door in colorful pajamas, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He can tell from her swollen, red-rimmed eyes that she’s been crying. She stands there, staring at him for the longest time. He wants to know what she’s looking for, what she sees, but he is too scared to ask. Finally, she takes the offered coffee and slides aside to let him come inside.

Diggle didn’t have the details about the breakup, only that it had happened and Felicity was taking a couple of days off. He’s been thinking all morning about what Felicity said to him in his dream, wonders what his subconscious is trying to tell him.

They sit in silence in her living room, drinking their coffee. They are both on her couch, but on opposite sides, so much space between them. He’s only been inside her house a couple of times, but he loves it here. Loves how much it feels like Felicity. Loves how all the colors calm him. 

“I’m sorry about Ray,” he says when they’ve both finished their coffee, meaning it. He is sorry. He wants her to be happy. “Is it…did he—“

“No, Oliver,” she cuts him off, turning to look at him so he can see her eye roll. “He didn’t cheat or anything like that.”

She looks so sad. She might not be crying but her eyes are filled with sorrow, just like in his dream. He wants to take it all away. He wants to curl his arms around her and pet her hair until he can figure out a way to make her smile again. He scoots himself a little closer, turning on the cushion so he can see her fully before grabbing her hands between his. 

“It’s my fault,” she says quietly. She’s looking at her hands in his, where his thumb is gently rubbing the back of her hand. He desperately wants to ask her what on earth she could ever do to warrant a breakup, but then she looks up at him, her eyes pinning him down. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

“He found out I was in love with another man.”

The full force of what she says and how she is saying it hits him dead in the chest. He’s having a little trouble breathing, but his hands only tighten around hers.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she asks, and there are fresh tears in her eyes. He can’t have that. He lets go of her hands, cups her face like he did last night, wiping away the tears in the same way he’d done in the dream. 

“You don’t have to let me go,” he says quietly, his voice reaching that timbre he’s come to associate with her.

“Oliver—“ she begins, but he cuts her off by kissing her. Because it’s all there on the tip of her tongue, all the reasons they can’t be together, shouldn’t even attempt it, and he just decided they are all bullshit.

Because at the end of the day they love each other and that’s all that really matters to him.

So he does what he did in his dream. Everything. All of his thoughts and feelings, what he wants for them, he pours it all into that kiss. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against hers trying desperately to get his breathing under control. He can taste her vanilla latte on his tongue. 

“Do you understand?” he repeats, because if she doesn’t understand then he doesn’t know how else to convince her. To his surprise she laughs a little, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss, while sliding her arms around his neck. “My declaration of love is amusing?”

He doesn’t really care, happy she is smiling again.

“No,” she says, her voice a little dreamy as he kisses her cheek and then that spot under her ear. “I just had a dream last night where you said the exact same thing. Real you is much more convincing.“

He thinks it’s a little odd, but is too distracted by the smoothness of her neck to care. 

“Oliver,” she says, pulling back and putting pressure on his neck until he’s looking at her. “Can we do this?”

“If anybody can make this work, it’s us,” he says with certainty. Because if he knows anything, it’s that they are stubborn. She smiles back at him, knowing she sees his point when she brings him in for another kiss. 

Later, when he actually knows what it feels like to have glorious, mind-blowing sex with Felicity Smoak, he gets up to get them water. He has to keep her hydrated. He has plans.

But he stops dead in the middle of the room, because this is the room from his dreams. The room he has dreamt about countless of times. He looks at the bedspread, really looks at it, and realizes it’s the exact same one.

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asks and normally he’d be really proud of the satisfied tone of voice she’s got going on because fuck is it sexy. But he can’t really focus on that, because he’s taking everything in and his brain isn’t really processing it.

He turns to her, to ask her point blank what else happened in that dream she’d mentioned earlier. But what he finds is Felicity, beautiful naked Felicity. She’s in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, giving him a pretty perfect view of all of her, flashing him a lazy smile. He can already spot two hickeys on her neck. 

And fuck, he doesn’t care how weird the whole thing is. All that matters is they are here now and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  


 


End file.
